Inner Demons
by lisek16
Summary: 6/? is now up ::A year after ATY, Sydney decides she has nothing to loose and goes in search of Vaughn...(and trouble) R/R
1. I wanted to Hurt

a/n :: This is a little something of angst I wrote while thinking about my inner demons. Read and Respond Please!  
  
*Inner demons*  
  
So every night that I try to feign sleep and this lament goes through my mind.  
  
I used to wake up every Sunday that I could, and visit her grave. My mother's grave. I'd walk up the grassy knoll and deposit the bundle of flowers that I'd purchased. I usually bought white lilies and wrapped them in a bow. Someone once told me that they were her favorite. I don't remember who though…that bothers me.  
  
I stopped visiting her grave once I found out who she was…  
  
*  
  
I used to find it hard to go to his grave. Danny's grave. If things had worked out, we have been engaged for over a year. I used to visit his grave and think about what I had destroyed and who else had been affected. I thought about all the lives he could have saved as a doctor… His friends and family; all the people who cried and missed him because he meant the world to them. I thought about what I had lost. If only I hadn't told him the truth…but I did and the truth killed him.   
  
I stopped visiting his grave when I came back from Taipei the second time.  
  
*  
  
I visit his memorial everyday I can. Vaughn's cenotaph. No matter the weather, I sit on the bench adjacent to the memorial constructed in his honor. You see, they never found his body; at first I was sure he'd survived. I convinced myself he'd escaped somehow. I was so sure that I wouldn't lose someone else; someone who I admired and loved; someone who never knew how I felt. Someone who deserved better…but I was wrong.  
  
Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I talk aloud. Sometimes I pretend it was all a bad dream. I don't care who sees me. I don't know if SD-6 knows why I come here. I don't know if anyone can relate. I know I caused more pain though. To Weiss, To the CIA, to Vaughn's mother…to his friends and to everyone else who passed through his life…It's my fault and I'm more then happy to bear that burden.  
  
He could have helped save more lives. He could have avenged his father's death. He could have done anything with anyone and I took that away from him. Now I feel as though, it's my job to perform his final wishes. I can only guess what they were from Weiss and my haunting dreams.  
  
I donate money every week to charities in his name. He always had a caring heart. I plan to take down SD-6 once I'm back on active duty. After I returned I was recused. At first I fought it, but it's given me more time to wallow. Wallowing at least made me feel like I was being punished.  
  
I wanted to hurt. I wanted to feel pain but all I felt was numbness. I needed to take control. So I stopped eating. Francie noticed and when I refused to head her warnings she called my father. He didn't want to put me in a hospital but swore he would. I don't know if he was serious but I did start eating again.   
  
I stopped caring what I look like. I looked like hell every morning anyways. I stopped bothering with make-up long ago, it never hid anything anyways. The first time I visited him was right after the memorial service. Weiss had to drive me home that day because I couldn't move. I was frozen. I broke down and I wanted to die too.  
  
It should have been me. He was never supposed to come. He was never supposed to know about the mission…he was supposed to be alive. If only we had followed protocol…or maybe if someone else was assigned as my handler…or my favorite "what if"…If I never found out about SD-6. What if I was solely working for the bad guys and didn't know…  
  
A/n :: I have thoughts of a continuation….but let me know if that would be something your interested in. Either way…If you hate it-love it-don't have an opinion- let me know…by the way I've bared a burden my whole life… and it's not easy. (For those who are wondering…I am continuing "Danger will follow", I'm just dodging making revisions on my English Term paper.) Thank you for reading! 


	2. False Hope

Taipei is still a blur.   
  
It's been a year. I've been to therapy. I blocked it all out. At first I thought I saw him everywhere. Then he was nowhere.  
  
At one point I wondered if things at work were slow for him. I forgot that he didn't work there anymore.  
  
Francie couldn't order pizza without me going into hysterics in the last year.   
  
Once, she told me that she was thrilled that the 'Joey's pizza' calls had stopped. "Maybe they had gone out of business" she said. I cried. She told me it was alright. But it wasn't. I think I scared her sometimes.   
  
She tried to comfort me, but I was too far gone.  
  
I used to write him notes… where I'd apologize for everything. They'd all end up crumpled or scorched from my tears. One time Francie found one. She asked me who Vaughn was. I told her.  
  
"He's a man who I once worked with." I said as I choked back tears. "He's a man I loved." I continued; after I explained that he died, She hugged me, and responded with an "oh, Syd!" She didn't know what he gave up for me. She couldn't understand how he risked his life by betraying the agency and following his heart. Francie couldn't fathom what he meant to me…no one could.  
  
Francie had told Will about my depression. As if he hadn't already noticed. He knew. Everyone at the agency did. Will tried to console me. He didn't understand how I couldn't blame him, but could blame myself. But I didn't blame Will though. Will knew Vaughn died because of our mission to save him and thwart the efforts of "the man" though. Will told me that Vaughn didn't die in vain. "What is vanity has to do with it anyways?" I had retorted. "What's the point in living if you can't feel alive?" I had continued, but Will didn't have the answers I needed.  
  
Vaughn must have died, I told myself because If he had lived…he would have contacted me. Someone would have told me. We would have found a clue. Instead he hadn't been in the body count from the blast and he hadn't been anywhere.  
  
"The man"…turned out to be my mother. She offered me immunity from destroying her "circumference". She offered me a chance to double cross SD-6 and the CIA. But I refused. Vaughn would have hated me to destroy our progress. That's how my mind processed it- though he'd have wanted me to do anything to stay alive. All I wanted was to die along with him. Repent for my sins…  
  
Pay for my crimes….  
  
Get what I deserved-  
  
She ordered me tortured. She was never going to win Mother of the Year.   
  
I wanted to take back the Mug I made her as a mere child. "World's Greatest Mom" it had said. She thought I'd do anything to get away from the pain; she was wrong because I welcomed it.   
  
After three days she couldn't stand it anymore. She sent me home…broken ribs…battered face…it was absolution to me. I wanted to thank her. That was the only thing that she gave me that I wanted.  
  
I wish she'd killed me. I thought about suicide. It's not like I was going to heaven anyways.  
  
I gave up after knowing I was too weak. The past anorexia and delusions were enough.  
  
I look at the world differently now. What could I have achieved if Vaughn was still alive? Where would life have taken me?   
  
Even after I learned he may have survived, I was in disbelief. My father received possible confirmation. I doubted it. False hope….who needed it?  
  
A small part of me wondered though.  
  
I had been away from SD-6 and the CIA for a year. I still remembered my training though. I planned to go back to Taipei where Vaughn had been last spotted. If I didn't find him, I'd repress that fact and live the rest of my miserable life pretending he was still there….waiting to be found….  
  
A/n:: Sydney is going back. What will she find? Will she find him? Will things work out? Will her disturbed mind overcome her pleas for sanity….who even knows….oh wait…I do… R& R….I'll update …..Hopefully you'll look forward to it. Sorry If it was too angsty… bad moods lead to sad stories….I hope you enjoyed though.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
We had 


	3. Something?

Author's note: To say I forget about this piece would be an exaggeration. I wrote a bit and locked it away in a dusty box in the corner of my brain. Basically I forget to update and if it wasn't for a kind reviewer I would have left it for an eternity. But I'm updating. Adding and hopefully it will be worth something. : ) Enjoy  
  
-_____-  
  
Taipei the second time around was different. Maybe that was because I had been there 5 times throughout my lifetime. But never for my own pleasure… If you could call this pleasure. Pleasure is usually associated with theme parks and ice cream filled hazes of a summer past. This was more like torture.   
  
Torture at every corner. Even at every step. There was the airport that Vaughn and I had gone through a year ago. The Swatch ad still posted on a kiosk on the street that we had amused our selves with. There was the smell of Taipei that had become a stench of death to me. There was the club that Vaughn had been so over-protective of me at. It was his alleged resting place.   
  
I kept the outfit from our mission in Taipei. Blood stained…never washed…  
  
The smell of him was still evident.  
  
His sweat embedded on the thin fabric of the whorish outfit that I sported that evening.   
  
I kept the dog collar that he had despised. "You're not REALLY going to wear that" his words still echoed.   
  
The blue hair was long gone though. My mother…Irina….I can't call her my mother because that would apply that there was a connection and the truth is that there never was, and any hint of one was severed long before Taipei.   
  
My mother ordered my hair bleached. Streaked of color…  
The harsh chemicals burned my scalp. They fried my follicles; they were part of my experimental torture…  
  
When I had returned from Taipei I went to A Salon in New York and the Woman asked me what I wanted a done. "Something." I said. "Something?" she had questioned. something. Anything to let me forget Taipei. To forget that Vaughn told me my hair reminded him of a Smurf. Instead of explaining that there was more to my vague something I nodded and allowed her to treat my hair with gentle fragrances and delicate products. Eventually the shine of my brown hair returned but the twinkle in my eye did not.  
  
*  
As soon as I returned from Taipei I sat in the dark waiting for his call. A covert "I'm ok", a clandestine "I'm safe", even a confidential "Joey's pizza" The phone didn't ring, except for Will, my father and one misdirected call to Frank's Florist…I pondered that call a good six months. I had my father trace the number, I investigated but sadly I found that Frank the Florist's phone number was similar to ours and that Paul Miller the misguided caller had no affiliations to espionage. It was not Vaughn. It never was Vaughn. Not even a postcard as Shepard had sent me after our escape from the institute in Bucharest.  
  
It was like he didn't exist. Donovan, his dog was watched by Weiss. His apartment was Sold. His possessions went to his mother. I hated to admit it, but I went apartment hunted for a month to disguise the fact I was eager to see where he had resided. I hoped it would clue me into where he had gone. I didn't let myself believe he was dead. I even went to his mother's garage sale and bought some old books of his and Hockey jersey. I felt like a fool when Weiss saw me. "Sydney. You can't be here" he had said as he ushered me aside. "I can go any damn place I please" I hissed. "Not here. It's too risky." He muttered. "I don't care about the risks." I mumbled as I pushed through him to get to my car.   
  
He was reassigned as my handler, but I wouldn't let him handle me. I wouldn't let him near me. I didn't even let him meet me in the warehouse. The warehouse became a Shop Rite a few weeks after my return. I couldn't loiter. I couldn't morn. I could buy pancake mix though. I rather have my tears and the solace of memories than prefabricated pancake mix…  
  
The whole world that was laid out in from of me was prefabricated and mirror image after mirror image. Day after day, nothing changed. A Starbucks here, a Shop Rite there. Somehow when Vaughn existed things seemed different. It might have seemed clichéd or hackneyed but blue skies and golden sun danced when he was around. Happiness was evident, and unlike today individuality and free will existed.   
  
Going through the motions wasn't free will. Vaughn's attempt to help me was though. He would have inspired me to work harder. Rebel with more conviction… but now I grieve and think I see him in a crowd. Think I see the back of his head, push through the unsuspecting faceless drones and discover it's not him. It's some ordinary guy. Some one else…someone who G-d never attended for me to have to met. But is there really a G-d? I seem to doubt it these days. If there was, wouldn't Vaughn have been saved.  
  
I saw him again. I thought 'It's just another stranger traveling through Taipei.'  
  
Another dimpled, dashing, charming stranger…It had to be, right? He died, right? I had to check, just to be sure…I ran through the throng of commuters on the hazy summer evening. Pushed my way through them all.   
  
Old.   
  
Young.  
  
Didn't make a difference.   
I tapped him on the shoulder, He turned around and I hoarsely uttered "Vaughn?"  
  
TBC  
. 


	4. perfect stranger?

Author's note: I didn't forget this piece. I didn't forget to upload. I simply had half of this saved on my computer but haven't had a free moment to add to it... I realized that I haven't written in 15 days. That's an all time record. I'll attribute it to my new job… Anyways please enjoy and as you are well aware feedback is smiled on!  
  
~~~  
"Vaughn?" the stranger questioned. The dim streetlight reflected off of his harsh facial features and I could tell it was a perfect stranger.   
  
It was just like all the other look-a-likes… in all the foreign countries, and cities in The United States that I visited. False hope had made me try and now I felt as though I was loosing him all over again.  
  
Choking on my own misery, inner demons and frustration I excused my self in a foreign language. Without thought I apologized, the stranger understood and I removed my hand from his shoulder.   
  
Doing things without thought was what I was best at.   
  
I stumbled to a bench perched on the sidewalk.   
  
I curled up in a ball and watched the buses pass.   
  
Several bystanders asked how I was; I responded and eventually forced myself back to my hotel.   
  
I lay on the bed. I counted ceiling tiles. 700.  
  
I counted the times the generic patterned wall paper repeated. 416.  
  
I was about the count the tiny imperfections on the oak Armour but a knock on the door detained me. I wiped away a tear and peered through the small porthole in the door.   
  
There stood a man.  
  
"I don't want any…" I responded in English, not caring anymore.  
  
He remained in front of my door and knocked once more.  
  
"Just go away, let me be …" I continued, he didn't listen.  
  
Another knock.   
  
This guy was persistent. I finally gave in.   
  
I opened the door.   
  
He nodded his head and took a step in. he whipped out a note from his pocket, handed it to me. It was from a yellow legal pad. The author had difficulty tearing off the pad. It took me a moment to open the note and focus my eyes to read the scrawled script. The messenger left, I barely noticed…  
  
"…Okay…Missed you…Dangerous…insist. ~Vaughn"  
  
Eyes Focus…  
  
Did it actually say Vaughn. I looked again.   
  
There was a V. There was an A, followed by a U, G, H, and N. It spelled Vaughn. But what if it was a trap…What did I have to lose? I was already fighting a loosing battle with my inner demons and loosing miserably.  
  
I reread the note:  
  
"If you're reading this than you understand that I'm Okay, and That I've missed you. I realized returning would be far too dangerous, not only because of SD-6 but also because I was kidnapped. Don't worry…but if you insist on verifying my safety…meet me in room 416 of your hotel. I'll be waiting…  
~Vaughn"  
  
I tossed the note on the bed. I looked in the mirror…Was there even a point in plastering on Make-up. I decided there wasn't and grabbed my hotel key before racing to the stairs. I didn't trust the elevator.  
  
50 stairs, I counted each one.   
  
Stair number 4 had a broken tile.  
  
Stair number 36 had a wad of sticky gum still intact.  
  
I noticed the details. The exit sign was missing a letter… it spelled 'eit', which if reversed spelled tie; Like the emotional ties were about to unravel if I didn't confirm that Vaughn was safe. I reached the door to the fourth floor. I began to turn the knob of the industrial steel door.  
  
The door to Vaughn's floor was locked.  
  
Locked.  
  
Locked.  
  
Not open.  
  
Locked.  
  
I tried to knock. No answer.  
  
I tried to get back on my floor, but the door there was locked too. I couldn't climb down another level b/c this was where the staircase ended. I was trapped.   
  
I sat on stair number 49. I put my hands on my lap and laid my head on them. I began to cry.  
  
Click.  
  
Clack.  
  
Click.  
  
Clack.  
  
What the hell was that incessant noise? I looked behind me. Stair number 47…There she stood. I thought I got rid of her…  
  
TBC  
  
Author's note: sorry so short…but you got to love a cliffhanger 


	5. RUN

Black leather boots with a stiletto heel…a tight black wrap dress, a rigid bun of weathered chestnut hair. She'd stand out anywhere. She took the additional three steps down, before she made an attempt to acknowledge me… She stood in front of me and waited until I looked up at her familiar face. It had been seared into my brain from the hours of time she spent trying to break me.  
  
"Sydney…Is something wrong?" Irina asked. She tortured me last year and she had the audacity to ask how I was? She could at least have sent a damn birthday card…   
  
"I'm fine, thank you." I retorted.   
  
"This was all a trap" I made the question into a statement.  
  
She ignored me and continued…"Sydney, A mother always knows when something is wrong with her daughter."   
  
"Where does that leave you?"  
  
"Such harsh words….Now I regret saving his life."  
  
"He's alive…?"  
  
"Did you think I'd let a man you love die... Again?"  
  
"Yes, you are cruel and heartless…"  
  
"And you are my daughter. IF you were disappointed in finding out whom I was; do you think I was proud of who you turned out to be?"  
  
Baffled.   
  
I always thought I held the resentment in our relationship.  
  
"People might look at you and think you are an 'amazing' person because you overcame your misgivings. You are strong, determined and you have a good heart to them. People like that are not real though...they can not give you what you deserve. I can. My allies as well as myself can not respect you yet…. While your accomplishments might win you brownie points with your associates, they bring me shame…"  
  
Was this for real? Was my mother disappointed in me being a good person? Was that possible?  
  
"When you speak of me to The CIA, they must shake their heads and mention that I have committed atrocities to their agents. Maybe they blame me for every little international squabbles…"   
  
"Actually, I don't talk about you. I never have." I thwarted her attempt to reason with me this time.   
  
But there was no way I was going to let her try to make me believe that She was the victim in this situation. It would take many trips to the candy store and tea parties before I'd even agree to hear that sob story.  
  
"Well. You certainly have an answer to questions I don't ask…what about to the ones I do pose? Let's see if you'll let your mouth get in the way of the well being of your friend, Michael Vaughn. Answer correctly and everything will be peaches and plums…"  
  
"It's peaches and cream. You pretended to be an English professor for 10 years; I thought you were trained to avoid obvious giveaways…"  
  
She pursed her lips for a moment and responded "enough, If I wanted to listen to you bicker with me; I would have been around during your teenage years… here is my question…how far would you go to save his life?"  
  
Insult me and then threaten me…she knew the game. She forgot I was her opponent. I'd gain her confidence and then when she though that I was no longer a threat I'd attack…  
  
"Don't even think it Sydney." She smiled. She was enjoying this.  
  
"What would I have to do?" I dryly noted.  
  
"You see it's not that simple. One step at a time…"  
  
"What would be step one?"  
  
"I'm glad you asked…" She jangled key chain, most likely to the locked doors of the stairwell in front of my face. "Step one is the easiest. All you have to do is visit a doctor…"  
  
"A doctor?" I questioned. She had to be kidding. "I need current dental records for when it comes time to identify your body if you don't cooperate."  
  
I gulped. "I think you remember my dentist. He certainly remembers you and your friend Mr. Tippin…"  
  
I didn't respond. She was using Vaughn as leverage…or maybe it was just a lie. Maybe she didn't have him…  
  
"I want to see him. Then I'll decide." There was a chance she was bluffing, and if she wasn't there was a chance I could escape with Vaughn.  
  
"I grow tired of this. Let me inform you of step two…"  
"We play by my rules, or we don't play" I stated as I stood up. "As you wish…" She unlocked the door and grasped my arm as she escorted me to room 416, she knocked twice on the door and Sark opened the door.  
  
"Ahhh…The lovely Miss Bristow has decided to come home to her rightful place." Irina placed a manicured finger against his lips to silence him…"All in good time" she whispered.  
  
I searched the room. I didn't see him. "Where is he?" I asked. "In the bathroom" responded Sark…   
  
I opened the door to the bathroom…White tile…White wallpaper, white sink…white toilet…bloody secret agent…  
  
"Vaughn?" I hoarsely uttered as I lowered myself to the title floor and attempted to caress his face with my hand. He began screaming as he came to. "It's a nasty little after effect from his encounter with some psychedelics…Sark began. "He's fine." Irina stated.   
  
" I need to speak to him" I mumbled, I was horrified and on the verge of shaking. "I have some matches if you want him to listen…they usually work…" Sark began. "He's joking…They always work." Irina finished.  
  
I cringed. My year has been emotional hell. His had been worse. His eyes slowly focused and he came too after a few more moments of my gentleness. "Sydney…" he whispered. "My eyes widened. "I'm here" I said reassuringly. I should have won an Oscar for that performance. I brought my ear very close to his face as to hear him as he screamed: "RUN!!!"  
  
TBC 


	6. blurry fear

Part 5: BLUR  
  
I shrinked back from him as my eyes searched his frantically for logic. His eyes locked on something behind me and as I turned around I saw my mother grinning as I felt a piecing pain throbbing from my left temple. Darkness slithered around me and the white walled bathroom turned to gray, as I descended into unconsciousness.  
*  
  
My first instinct as I came to was to open my eyes and discover my surroundings. Blurry.  
  
Everything was blurry. It was as if I was trying to see the road during a torrential thunderstorm even with the windshield wipers working in overdrive. I took in bits in pieces. Large industrial style pipes acted as a ceiling, there was a mirror facing me, and I was tied to chair, which was cemented into the concrete floor.   
  
Drip.  
  
Drop.  
  
Drip.  
  
Drop.  
  
I silently lie awake in the dark cold room.  
  
Drip.  
  
Drop.  
  
Drip.  
  
Drop.  
  
Someone must have left the facet on. Didn't their mother ever teach them better than that? My mother never did, but I heard that some mothers do….  
  
Water conservation obviously isn't a priority to them. If I was in a different situation I might have asked if the facet needed to be fixed. I might have suggested hiring a plumber. I might have even done the self righteous Sydney thing and preach about the top ten reasons to conserve natural resources…  
  
Drip.  
  
Drop.  
  
Drip.  
  
Drop.  
  
But I couldn't…The situation I found myself facing was too far away from this side of normal. Dusty crates of products long passed their expiration dates acted as my furniture and the board they had the audacity to call a chair was almost as comfortable as lying on a bed of nails. Though I had never gotten a chance to face that exact torture, I was sure I would in the near future, seeing the path I was traveling.  
  
Drip.  
  
Drop.  
  
Drip.  
  
Drop.  
  
  
Where the hell was I? Just as I was attempting to piece together my location I heard two familiar voices. I closed my eyes and slowed my breathing as Irina and Sark spoke.  
  
"Why hasn't she come to yet?"  
  
"She will" he gruffly responded.  
  
"If you offer me one more smart answer you'll share the same fate as Steven Haladki" she sneered. Immediately after Taipei my father had informed me about Haladki and how he had disposed of him.  
  
"She'll be fine…" he corrected himself.  
  
"She better be. Perhaps your plan was to harsh." She contemplated aloud.  
  
"My plan worked. We got her to Taipei on her own free will, we arranged your conversation and here she is, ready to listen…it worked." He responded.  
  
I could hear her lighting a cigarette and pacing in the room that I was trapped in.  
  
"Sometimes things work out too well…" she mused gently as she learned over me and kissed my forehead. I fought every urge to vomit. The putrid smell of her smoke and perfume invaded my senses and made me want to gag…but I didn't  
  
"She loves him…" she continued. "You are doing the right thing…it never would have worked out." Sark reassured her.   
  
"She never wondered why the CIA knowingly assigned Michael Vaughn as her handler when they knew that you killed his father. She never once questioned that…" Sark reminisced.  
  
"Yes…" she sighed as she played with my hair as she had when I was a child. "How is he?" she finally asked. I assumed they were discussing Vaughn. "He's back in his room, asking for Sydney. What should I tell him?" Sark asked.  
  
"No…This is not what was supposed to happen…he is supposed to hate her…isn't that what the training was for? He only wants to see her because he can not live without her. This is not what I wanted." She awkwardly stated.   
  
"I'll order him back on the drugs…he was less coherent and more susceptible to our methods…" Sark said as he attempted to rectify her qualms. I felt an uneasy sensation consuming my body. It was fear. An insatiable fear and strong desire to restore order and start the retribution. I remained still, even as Sark took my mother's cigarette and put it out on my hand. I silently repeated: "do not flinch…do not cringe…stay still…"  
  
"No…" Irina responded. "When he was on the drugs he reminded me of his father…I didn't like it…Bring him here…maybe I can reason with him after all…"  
  
"What do you have planned…don't keep me in suspense"  
  
"You will enjoy it David…Just Wait…" she mumbled as he snapped her fingers and they both left the room.  
  
tbc 


End file.
